The Real Mr Gold
by inexile
Summary: Rumpelstilskin comes after someone who owes him something very,very important. The 4th wall suffers.


A soon to be former knight of the realm clutched his rather pointy grand star metal and cowered in the corner of the library of his well appointed estate. The well appointed estate which went with his vast retirement package. The vast retirement package he got to keep, no matter what his former transgressions. That part of his life was in order, at least. He couldn't get a golf club membership, and of course his wife left him over that little fling with the secretary...mere details. His only real concern at the moment was the small, surely inconsequential, matter of a certain...deal...he'd made. There at the end, when it was obvious things were falling apart. A desperate deal.

The one that had him cowering in his well appointed corner in a cold sweat.

Thanks to an agreement between the Crown and another, less visible, Court (most recently renegotiated for the late Queen Victoria by Rev. Charles Dodgson) our soon to be Not Knight was immune from extradition to certain climes for any of his nefarious actions. As long as he was a Knight of the British Empire. Which was until midnight tonight. The Queen had, you see, rescinded the honor. Over that small matter of the £24.1 billion.

According to the terse letter he had received from the Forfeiture Committee his debasement was effective tomorrow. Or at 12 am on the dot, for those of you who like exactness. And some individuals are very, very exacting when it comes to what is owed them. It was one of those individuals the soon to be de-Knighted benighted one was listening so acutely for.

The disgraced ex-banker had counted on the continuing special protection afforded by his title when he made the deal. The pickle he found himself in at the moment had seemed too far fetched to consider back in his halcyon days. He had been the president of the biggest bank in the world. This could not be happening. He wasn't Robert Mugabe. This sort of thing did not happen to people like him. Or did it? He ought to have remembered that while he wasn't Garry Glitter he wasn't exactly Jeffery Archer, either, he thought miserably, as specters of the past began to troupe through this fevered mind. "You have a long time to regret it if you don't get it right", that's what he'd always said. Now he was learning that statements full meaning.

Bad judgment and megalomania had led him to this pass. That's what his advisers had tried to tell him, anyway. Not that he had listened to them. He just saw opportunities, opportunities he felt he was being held back from by less far sighted individuals. He showed them. Showed them all. Shredding through everything in his path with no time for cynics, spectators or dead wood. Leaving others had to pay for his bad judgment. So many others. Its not like he'd been alone in his misjudgments. A madness had come over the world. Greed, vanity, a total disregard for consequences...and it had all spun out of control. Future generations would pay for their hubris. Pensioners. Hospital charities. Every bloody taxpayer in the entire country would pay! Too big to fail. Too big to fail...it was their mantra. And their undoing. He tried some of everything there at the end, just before his percipitious retirement. Including the Book, the cup and the drop of his own blood on yellowed parchment. Harmless twaddle, really. Wasn't it? The blood had smoked in an odd way, as it splattered on the ancient velum. He'd tried to forget that bit.

Midnight drew closer. A shadow advanced down the hallway. Stealthy. Silent.

The clock struck. Once. Twice. The sweating former CEO and now former knight counted every chime, anxiously. He did not realize he had been holding his breath till the final tone faded away in the vast, empty house. Feeling pain, he looked down at his hand. He had been clutching the star so hard he'd forced it's points into his palm. It was bleeding. The tension had reached a breaking point. But nothing was happening. No one was coming for a pound of flesh or blood or whatever it was in that stupid play. Nothing was going to happen. It was all some...fairy tale. His spirits rose expectantly. He started to rise from his hiding place. He even laughed. It was going to be fine.

Then, as if to interrupt his joyous thoughts a sharp pain drew his eye to his pierced hand. He watched, transfixed, as a single ruby drop fell from his wounded hand, and, in a leisurely fashion made it's way to the floor. With growing foreboding, he watched it fall, a slow motion, silent scarlet raindrop. His life's blood. Taken, metaphorically, from so many others.

The door to the library flew open. The sharp crack as it hit the wall resonated through the house like thunder.

Dramatically backlit in the doorway, stood Rumpelstiltskin. His curls attractively catching the correctly angled light. Grinning demonically (thanks to poor UK dental care) he advanced on the banker's cowering figure. In a menacing sibilant voice he intoned "You owe me something, Mr.G**dwin...something very precious. Something I've worked for all my adult life." "Yes, yes" Rumpelstiltskin rubbed his black nailed hands expectantly, "lets talk about how the mistakes of the banking industry have affected funding for the arts" "And, as a result" he continued with rising volume and inflection, drawing himself up to his full height "MY FUCKING CAREER". At which point he reached out to grasp the hapless banker by the collar and they both vanished to somewhere decidedly unpleasant (and strikingly similar to a back alley in Tillydrone). And they did not live happily ever after till the end of their days.

(this story is strictly fictional,all characters belong to their creators (or themselves if you're a libertarian) and does not indicate any serious threat to the disgraced head of the Royal Bank of Scotland or any other banking institution, unless, of course, it is somehow possible for same to be dragged to the netherworld by that guy from Priest in full frog prince makeup. If it is, I want video. Thank you.)


End file.
